Own the Night
by kaladrie
Summary: Clint and Natasha have always spoken a language all their own; the team just wants to understand how it came about. So when Steve asks the question, Clint and Natasha settle in to tell the story of their life. Inspired by Lady Antebellum's Own the Night album.
1. Dancin' Away With My Heart

**A/N: Ok. I know I'm really late to the party, but better late than never at all! Anyways, here is my second story ever! It's AU because I have never read the comics and because every situation will be inspired by a Lady Antebellum song. There will be no cheesy singing or lyrics in the story (besides ones I use for a page break occasionally). Also, this is unbeta'd but I did read over it. If you find anything I need to fix, I will gladly do so!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Avengers belong to Marvel and all songs, music, and lyrics belong to Lady A.**

**Without further ado, I present...**

Own the Night

Ch. 1 Dancin' Away with My Heart

Stark (Avengers?) Tower, New York City, 2012

Clint waded into the kitchen where Steve was frying eggs. He asked Natasha how she liked hers while she poured a couple of glasses of orange juice. She gave her reply, then leaned across the bar to Pepper and enquired if she would like any juice. Pepper replied in the negative, stating she had coffee as Steve handed her a plate that she slid over to Tony sitting at the end of the bar, who was conversing with Bruce about something science-y as the Dr. started a fresh pot of coffee for everyone.

Clint smirked at the domestic scene in front of him. Never did he think that this sort of scene would become familiar to him every morning. Nonetheless, he jumped over to the toaster to make toast, as was he general contribution to the morning scene.

Of course, it was rather ironic that he couldn't believe that they, The Avengers, had conformed to this fairly regular scene, as it had started with Natasha and him. He passed the plate of toast around the table as it was finished toasting and took the glass of orange juice that Natasha was holding aloft in front of him.

Their routine had started years ago, after he had convinced her to join S.H.I.E.L.D. She would pour the OJ (she didn't believe in coffee. Caffeine was something that was to be saved for desperate situations…) and he would make the toast (something quick and easy in case they needed to make a quick getaway…) Everyone else that lived in Stark Tower quickly caught on to the fact that breakfast in the kitchen on Nat's floor was the place to be in the mornings. Not for the food, but for the familiar feeling of mutual trust that went into making the routine.

As Clint slid his hand around the glass of orange juice, Natasha softly whispered a quick inquiry as to why he was late this morning. She quickly moved around to the coffee machine that Bruce had abandoned in pursuit of the teakettle, and grabbed the now finished pot of coffee. Hopefully, Tony hadn't caught that she had said something to him, seeing as Tony loved to read more into their relationship than there really was. Well, more than Clint and Natasha wanted people to know anyway. Their relationship was long and complicated and not entirely stable, yet still, the most stable thing in either of their lives combined.

Nat caught his eye as she poured coffee into Steve's coffee mug and he answered her question with a silent conversation that only they could understand. His answer didn't really matter, though, because she knew what was wrong with him to begin with. It was the way their partnership operated.

Tony, while not having caught the whispered question, definitely detected the silent answer, and being Tony Stark, could not leave it alone, so he opened his mouth to snap a quip about the pair of highly trained assassins. However, before he could even get the words out, Cap beat him to the punch.

"How did you guys first meet?"

The room went silent. Everyone turned to stare at Steve in disbelief. Steve didn't believe in prying into others business. If it wasn't important to the mission, the information was irrelevant.

He quickly amended his question sheepishly, "You don't have to answer. It's just that sometimes, you guys have conversations with your eyes that no one else will ever understand. I was wondering how it came about."

Perhaps the fact that it was Steve Rogers, the guy who had never even held a wondering look in his eyes about the two highly skilled S.H.I.E.L.D. agents was what prompted Natasha to answer truthfully.

"We meet in Warsaw in 2001 at a dance."

Tony turned to gape at her. "A dance? You guys meet at a dance? What was this, high school?"

Natasha turned to Clint, waving her hand, encouraging him to elaborate. Every eye in the kitchen swung towards the archer, desperate to hear the story of the lonely assassins.

Clint took one good look at Natasha to see how much of this story they were going to share, then he started, "Actually Tony, it was almost like high school. Nat had just turned eighteen in fact, and was partying it up at a club in Poland. But let's start with why I was in Warsaw at the tender age of 22…"

_~Own the Night – Dancin' Away With My Heart~_

Building in Warsaw, Poland, 2001

Clint didn't know what he was doing, allowing himself to be dragged across Europe by his brother. He knew that they didn't have the money to be making this kind of trip in any legal form, but they were making good money as a duo of marksmen by day, pickpockets by night.

It was what they had been doing in the States before Barney had been made and they need a new place to go and it needed to be rather quickly. They had enough money to fly across the country or to a new one entirely, but the flight to LA wasn't until later the next day, so they booked the red eye into London. Rather desperate measures for a couple of low class thieves, but they had been ready for a new adventure and this presented itself as a rather large opportunity.

It was probably better that they were no longer in America anyways, it would be much harder for the circus to track them down and drag them back into that life. Clint had barely convinced Barney to leave in the first place.

But anyway, as Clint let his thrill-seeking brother lead him through the streets of Warsaw, he wondered what type of trouble they would get into tonight. They had made a rather large amount of money (more illegally than legally) and were ready to blow it on something trivial and in the moment.

Apparently, Barney had seen a poster for a rather exclusive club that they must try out. There was a huge dance going on that night for any one who fit the bill.

So, the brothers had set out to find a couple of suits that screamed, "Money!" and set out to find this exclusive club.

As they reached the club, the bouncer did a once over and completely denied them entry. Barney had pitched a fit, but Clint just grabbed his arm, apologized for his brother's behavior, and led him to the side of the building to help him cool off.

Clint was a very patient man. He told Barney to get his head out of his ass and to suck it up. They were going to get into that club tonight. They just needed to find some hot women.

Barney's eyes lit up as he started scanning the crowd gathered in front of the building. Clint decided to climb the fire escape, just like he did when they were picking marks to pick pockets. He always did see better from a distance.

As he reached the top of the three-story building, he glanced out at the crowd. Everyone there had seen them get rejected, what he needed was fresh meat.

Luckily, not even five minutes later, a group of four girls were making their was up the street, obviously dressed for the club. Clint smirked. That was their group. Just as he was getting ready to leave his perch, he saw the second girl on the right falter and stop.

He stilled as she spun around, her curly, red hair flying through the air, as her gaze settled on him. No one had ever made him in his perch before, but he couldn't really see it as a loss as she, in her little black dress that clung to all the right places, smirked and beckoned him to come down and join their group.

He quickly descended the fire escape, grabbed Barney, and made his way to the group of girls. Barney immediately started chatting up the three other girls in the group, leaving the red head to Clint. The red head smiled seductively at him and grabbed his hand.

She pulled him and her posse up to the front of the line, leaned over, and whispered something in the bouncer's ear. The bouncer immediately let them pass. She dragged Clint inside, dropped his hand, waved, and wandered off into the crowd of bodies.

Barney stood behind him as he watched the other three girls follow her, and asked him, "What the hell was that? Do you know her or something? You guys didn't even say a word to each other!"

Clint smiled a genuine smile, shrugged his shoulders, and pointed out that they had gotten into the club and that Barney should stop complaining.

Barney smiled and said as he wandered away from Clint, "Eh, what the hell? There is some fine ass out here tonight..."

Clint rolled his eyes at his brother and made his way to the bar. He miraculously managed to grab a barstool and order a drink. If he believed in luck, he would be thanking his stars right now.

But Clint didn't believe in luck so he just grabbed his drink and spun around to watch the mass of bodies sway and grind into each other.

His eyes soon found the auburn shade of the knockout that had let him tag along with her group. She had wasted no time at all in attracting attention. She had a gaggle of men's lust-blown stares trained on her as she danced with others.

Clint could see why men were staring though; the way her body moved was positively sinful. Clint gave a chuckle and continued to watch.

Soon he observed her hand slowly trailed up a man's chest and into the inside of his jacket. She brought her hand down, and as another girl in her group passed behind her, she passed off his wallet.

Clint smirked. He was sure that he was the only one who had seen this transpire. As his eyes once again found their way to the ginger thief from her friend who had collected the wallet, he realized that her eyes were now trained on him and she had a small smile playing on her lips. Clint raised his glass and nodded at her in recognition of the excellent job she had done.

Clint continued to watch the auburn beauty as she worked her way through several men and their wallets before one finally convinced her to go to the bar with him.

Clint was laughing at the hapless men being taken in by the red head. They had no idea what they were dealing with. As the man asked her what she wanted to drink, she answered him in Russian. The obviously German man looked confused, "Weren't you just speaking German? I do not understand that language."

The red head just smiled and repeated her drink order in German.

"Apple martini, please," was her order.

Clint smiled into his drink as the man's face lit up like a Christmas tree in December. He thought he was going to get lucky tonight, poor schmuck. Clint continued to sip his drink as the read head dragged the man back onto the dance floor.

After they had left, Clint called the bartender over, handed him the equivalent of a helluva lot of money US, and requested that he give the red headed bombshell in the little black dress with men drooling all over her all night the best vodka he could find. He also paid his bill, and then shoved off of the bar to go find Barney to make sure he hadn't been striped of his soul yet.

He found Barney talking to some Polish models about his days as a gold medal Olympic archer. He told them he wanted to show them his medal, but it was locked behind two inches of shatterproof Plexiglas in the family mansion back in the States.

Clint smiled and decided not to expect him home tonight. He then made his way back to the bar, only to see the red head slowly spinning her finger around the rim of a shot of vodka, not a man in sight. He chuckled and said in Russian, "I hope you enjoy the drink, it seems that you can certainly afford it."

She smiled up at him, nodding her head in the affirmative. To the drink or her ability to afford it, he didn't know.

Clint just smirked as he sat on the stool next to her (she must have told someone to get lost), and said in her native language, "You know, my question is how you haven't gotten caught. You've taken at least fifteen wallets tonight, how is this place not crawling with police about now?"

Again, the woman, well, girl really, smiled and pointed to one of her friends that was dancing with one of the marks. Her friend slipped the wallet back into his pocket before he noticed it was missing. Ah, so there's the trick.

Again, the archer raised his glass to the red head he was seated next to and said, "I propose a toast. To the endurance of the stupidity of men and the money filling your pockets. Cheers."

She raised her shot, clinked it with Clint's, and tossed it back like it was nothing. She smiled as it went down and said to Clint in flawless American English, "This is the good stuff. Thank you."

"No problem. If you don't mind me asking, why are you here tonight, besides, you know, increasing your revenue?" Clint asked with no surprise of her ability to speak English.

The Russian smirked, "It's my birthday. I just turned eighteen."

"Well, happy birthday and all that jazz," said Clint with a hint of disbelief.

"You don't believe that it is my birthday? Or that I'm just eighteen?" The smirk playing at her lips betrayed the questions that she asked. She was enjoying talking to this stranger and it was stranger still that he had not asked why she had helped him get in.

Clint laughed and said, "Oh no, I just think that you aren't above playing all the cards to get what you want. And for me right now, I don't know what that is."

"Are you going to leave before you can figure it out?" She wondered.

Clint considered his options, and then spoke, "I probably should, but I won't."

The pair continued to chat as the crowd thinned out slightly, due to the late nature of the time. Finally, as the DJ announced the next song was to be slow and the last, Clint offered his hand to the Russian beauty sitting next to him.

"Well, since it's last call and I haven't any money left for you to steal anyway, would you like to dance?"

The red head smiled and accepted his offer. They made their way onto the dance floor to a relatively open space, and began to dance.

The disco ball cast tiny squares of light across the floor around them as she leaned her head onto his shoulder and swayed to the beat of the music. Near the middle, Clint pushed her curls out of the way of her eyes and she gazed up at him. He leaned down to put a kiss on her lips in a silent agreement.

As he pulled away, he whispered in her ear, "Happy Birthday," and continued to dance. As the song ended, he went to make sure Barney had left and wasn't lying in a pile of puke in the middle of the bathroom or anything and she wandered away to meet up with her group of friends.

He never even asked her name nor did she ask his, but he felt that he would see her again. He left the club feeling pretty good about letting Barney talk him into trekking across Europe.

_~For me, you'll always be eighteen and beautiful and dancin' away with my heart~_

Stark (Avengers?) Tower, New York City, 2012

Clint stuttered to a stop, only to look up at the room gaping back at him.

He lifted the nearly full glass of orange juice to his lips to take a drink that effectively disguised the emotions playing across his face from the memory.

He had told more than he had originally intended to, but that was ok. This was their team, and they deserved to know.

Tony, unable to stand the quiet any longer, muttered a quiet, "Damn," followed by a low whistle.

Bruce, surprisingly enough, was the one who questioned, "Wait, you guys didn't even talk until you met at the bar?"

He then turned to Steve and said, "Well, that answers your question. They have always talked to each other in a language no one else can understand, from the start."

Clint caught Natasha's eye. The mirth in them was reflected back at her as he silently said, "If they found that story interesting, they should hear the one about Budapest…"

Tony, catching the laughter in the eyes of the S.H.I.E.L.D. super-assassins, quickly said, "Oh, I think there is so much more to that than just that story."

**A/N: Please read and review! I will probably continue writing, but I would love to hear any constructive criticism you have, especially about the style of writing. **

**- Kaladrie**


	2. We Owned the Night

**A/N: I am so sorry guys. Life totally got in the way. I would like to thank everyone who waited for this and hopefully I don't disappoint. I will try to update faster now that I have more time and know what I'm doing better.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Avengers belong to Marvel and all songs, music, and lyrics belong to Lady A.**

Own the Night

Ch. 2 We Owned the Night

Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

Of course there was more to the story. They were super-assassins working for S.H.I.E.L.D. But, they decided to not tell any more of the story unless they were all there, including Thor who had been on Asgard for the story of the first meeting.

This was an attempt on their part to keep secrets, but Tony could be down right annoying when he wanted something, especially if it was something someone told him he couldn't have.

And he wanted the full story.

Clint and Natasha hadn't become part of the super secret boy band by folding under the slightest pressure, though, and resisted every tried and true manipulation Stark threw at them.

They had thought they would keep their pasts under the radar for quite a while, seeing as Thor hardly came back unless he was needed or to see Jane, and somebody was usually gone when he was around.

Last time, Bruce had been in India, tying up loose ends. The time before, Steve had wandered off to California on his cross-country trip.

So, they weren't particularly worried until Tony walked into the gym they were training in with a Cheshire grin on his face.

"So, guess who just showed up about ten minutes ago?" Tony smugly asked.

Clint and Natasha shared a quick glance, Bruce had gone to the store and Pepper was at Stark. They were okay for now.

Tony's smile, seemingly impossibly large, grew even larger as Thor wandered through the door to the gymnasium.

"That's right. Thor just happened to show up out of the blue today. Everyone is here and you are so caught. You have to tell the rest of the story now," said Tony, who looked beyond pleased with himself.

Natasha's forehead wrinkled in confusion for a second as Clint asked, "Bruce is out and Pepper is at Stark Industries. We don't have to do anything."

"Bruce got back half an hour ago and Pepper is on her way here now. You guys promised. Please?" Tony said.

Clint and Natasha looked at each other in awe. They just made Tony-freaking Stark, The Iron Man, beg. They were so going to use this against him someday. Probably soon, and for a very long time.

"Friends! It is good to see you again, but I know not this story of which you speak. Would one of you be so kind as to inform me of this tale?" Thor interjected before Clint and Natasha could make fun of Tony.

"Stark, because you begged for the rest of the story, I guess we will tell you some more, but you get to fill in Thor." Natasha said as she walked to the door.

"Glad you stopped by Thor. Hope you enjoy the story. Stark, you embellish any of that I will find you. I know where you sleep."

The three men stared after her as she exited the room in favor of the shower in her room.

"I suggest you corroborate the facts with Steve before you say anything to her, Thor," Clint said after a moment and made to follow Nat out the door.

Tony smirked and turned to the smiling Asgardian.

"Pikachu, I think you are going to really enjoy this. You know how they can talk without saying anything? Yeah, they started that before they even talked! Here's how it went down…"

~_One Hour Later~_

Pepper had finally made it back to Stark Tower and Thor had been brought to speed on the lives of the group's resident assassins.

Clint and Natasha walked into the living room where everyone was sitting, bickering about something irrelevant to pass the time. They already knew what was going to happen next.

Steve and Thor were sitting on opposite ends of the couch with a space between them while Pepper was sitting in the oversized chair off to the right of them.

Tony and Bruce were nowhere to be seen.

Clint and Natasha sat down on opposite sides of the chessboard and continued the game that had been going on for the better part of the week.

"Your move," Nat said to Clint.

"I know. I'm contemplating." Clint shot back at her with a small smile on his face.

Tony and Bruce wandered in as Clint made his move, carrying tubs of popcorn.

Natasha stared after them as Bruce threw the pillows that had been pushed to the middle of the couch, separating Steve and Thor, at Tony as he handed the popcorn to the blond super heroes.

Tony caught the pillows thrown at him with ease as he handed Pepper the popcorn and settled them and himself on the floor between his girlfriend's legs.

Natasha was still staring at the tubs of popcorn.

Clint silently laughed at the scene in front of him.

The great, mighty heroes of the Earth were spread out across the room with popcorn, awaiting story time. Who would have thought to see that?

Finally Natasha directed a glare at Tony, who just offered her some of his popcorn with a childlike innocent, "Popcorn?"

She then directed her glare to Bruce who quickly pointed at Tony and said, "His idea!" as he tried to disappear into the cushions of the couch between the massive bodies of Thor and the Captain.

Tony, not accustomed to sitting still for this long without some external stimulation said, "Guys, you promised. Tell the story now! We are all here and ready to be entertained."

Thor, who was also interested in the story continued, "Yes, I am curious as to the origins of your long and lasting friendship as well. Please continue your tale."

Clint glanced at Natasha, not sure if she really wanted to tell them anything now that she realized how much everyone wanted to know every detail of their lives. They were super-spy assassins working for S.H.I.E.L.D. after all.

Secrets had their place and it was not in the heads of five other people.

But the hopeful look on Tony's face finally got to Nat and she started,

"So for a few months after Warsaw, I kept running into this guy I helped get into the club, all over Europe: Germany, Austria, Hungary, Spain, everywhere really. It was crazy, like fate or something like it wanted us to be together, if you believe in that stuff. But like I said, I kept running into him and his brother. The time I remember best, though, was France. Carnac, France to be exact…"

Camping Area, Carnac, France, Six Months after Warsaw

He was here. That man. Boy?

Natalya wasn't sure.

They had spoken, but she knew not his name, nor his age.

It was as if he was following her.

Not that he could, she was trained better than that. And sure, she wasn't a killer yet, but her reckoning was coming soon. That didn't mean she was reckless.

But, perhaps, she didn't mind the thought of him following her - the man from the rooftop.

He thought her a petty thief. But he had no problem with that as he was as well.

She had watched him and his brother across the months since their first meeting. He had seen her in her element; she figured she deserved to see him in his as well.

They were both, he and his brother, great, but he was the better of the two, no doubt. He possessed a focus that his brother did not.

~_Flashback within the Flashback~_

He would be a very good assassin, she decided as she watched his show in the streets of España. His patience was extraordinary.

She could see him taking into account all the variables that were required to make the perfect shot.

She also got the feeling that he could wait all day to get that perfect shot.

Natalya was not easily impressed, but she was impressed by him.

Especially after he made a particularly difficult shot and relieved a hot shot banker of his pocket change while the pretentious man's eyes followed the bolt through the air across the park to where the brother had placed a target on the end of a branch that was swaying in the gentle breeze.

The bolt sliced through the bulls-eye and lodged itself into the tree behind it with a defining thunk.

Natalya was impressed.

Natalya was also made.

The skilled archer had noticed her in her hiding spot.

He tipped his small gray fedora back with a smile on his face in acknowledgement and turned back to his amazed audience.

She smiled, exited her hiding spot, and made her way through the awed crowd.

The brother had left his hat sitting beside her archer to collect change to finance this crazy dash across Europe.

The soon to be Black Widow quickly wrote a note and dropped it into the hat, making sure that he saw the words fall into the filling collection box amongst the bank notes and change.

He nodded at her, and turned back towards the crowd, saying in Spanish, "Thank you all for you kind contributions, but we, my brother and I that is, must be off. We have a train to catch!"

When he turned back to the hat, Natalya had disappeared.

He stooped to pick up the hat and beckoned his brother over as they headed in the direction of the train station.

_~The top has stopped spinning~_

Broken out of her reverie, Natalya met the man (boy?) from the rooftop's eyes across the campfire.

He knew she was there. He would find her eventually.

She continued to dance as if she were a child. Tonight was her last night, the last night to be wild and free.

Tomorrow she was going back to Russia to complete her training and become the Black Widow.

She grabbed some wine. She was in France and she was going to drink wine by the lakeside in the silhouette of the firelight and live for now.

Tomorrow no longer existed in her mind, she decided.

She watched as her archer grabbed a drink, glanced at her, grabbed another, and made his way to her.

This was different. He never just went to her. He always let her come to him, if they even met up at all.

In Germany, they had watched each other from across the room all night.

But, perhaps he could read the wild abandon and the invitation she unknowingly sent his way.

It was good that she was leaving for Russia tomorrow. This was too confusing.

But this was Carnac, France, and he had made his way across the crowd to her.

He handed her one of the drinks, just as she finished hers, and sat next to her on the small stretch of beach that was not being covered by the waves lapping up the sand near their feet or drunken co-eds who had started drinking much earlier and had a much lower tolerance, danced around them.

For a few moments, they just sat there, taking in the beauty of the oncoming night. The light was dimming as it began its decent below the horizon.

Finally she spoke, "Why are you here?"

Her archer glanced sideways at her, lifted his wine up to his mouth to take a sip, and slowly said, "Barney met a couple of French girls down at the seaside port, and was invited to join the party. I got dragged along."

Ah, so the brother was Barney.

"Not that I'm too disappointed just about now. I got your note in Spain," the rooftop man (boy?) said.

Natalya smiled.

She had written, "À bientôt, William Tell."

"Tell me, is that why you're in France?" she coyly asked.

"Of course! A beautiful lady tells me she is going to see me soon in French AND calls me William Tell? How could I possibly resist? She is a woman after my own heart," he said dramatically.

Natalya laughed and brought her red cup to her lips.

For her, there was no tomorrow, so she reached down with her other hand to grab his.

"There's something different about you today," he said quietly, leaning close to her ear as his hand enclosed hers.

She turned, staring into his brown eyes.

"Tonight's my last night. I didn't think you would find me before I had to leave."

She glanced down at their entwined hands and said, "I'm glad you found me."

Her rooftop man sucked in a breath of air, attempting to say something, but was interrupted by a drunken partygoer holding a couple bottles of wine.

"You two need more to drink! I have the b-b-best of the stuff right here! Man, I do not know how I am speaking English right now. I'm pissed. Let me fill your cups mates! Then you can carry on!" He exuberantly rambled.

He fell to his knees besides Natalya, leaned over and drunkenly whispered, "There is a spot just beyond that rock over there that is GREAT for some privacy, if you know what I mean."

He poured the wine into the cups, but spilt some on Nat's dress as one of his friends yelled at him in French.

He giggled and said, "I am sorry. Vous allez être chanceux, me thinks! Bonsoir, les beaux gens."

He then proceeded to drunkenly make his way back to the party.

Natalya started laughing and her archer soon joined. She looked down into her cup of wine. She was far from drunk, but that private place behind the rocks was sounding pretty tempting just about now to her.

This thought shocked her, so she took another drink and thought, "What the hell? Tomorrow might never come."

She grabbed her companion's hand as she stood up.

His eyes met hers as she stood above him. They didn't need words. That wasn't their thing. The silence said so much more.

They made their way beyond the rock.

_~The next morning~_

Clint woke up to the sun shining on the red hair that was spayed across his chest and a buzzing off to his right.

He reached out, grabbing the offending object to check to time. The BlackBerry's alarm was what had awoken him.

He quickly turned it off, not wanting to wake the sleeping beauty resting on his chest, but it was too late.

She was waking.

As she remembered the night before, she glanced up at the archer through her long, black lashes.

Last night had been perfect, and an absolutely perfect last night.

But tomorrow had come, despite her need to ignore it, and now she had to face real life.

So, she grabbed her dress and his clothes and threw them at him, laughing from the giddiness left over from the night before. She had a train to catch.

He smiled as he watched the redhead cloth herself and fold the blanket they had found stashed behind a rock, presumably for this exact reason.

He pulled on his jeans and stood up to help her.

After she had everything back where it was supposed to be, she leaned over to him and pecked his lips.

"Should we never meet again, thank you. You have made this one of the best trips I have ever been on."

He cupped her face in his hands, letting the thumb of his right hand brush across her cheekbone as he gazed down into her eyes.

He leaned down and captured her lips with his for the last time.

They parted ways on that beach near Carnac, France.

He would not see her again before he is handed a file by S.H.I.E.L.D. handler Phil Coulson and told to take the Black Widow out.

_~But it was perfect; I will never forget when we owned the night~_

__Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

The popcorn was long gone, and Pepper had a box of Kleenex sitting off to her side.

Again the assassins were met with silence.

Finally, Steve said, "You guys should write this down and send it to a publisher under a pen name."

Tony turned to stare at Steve, "Are you kidding? Who cares if they send it to a publisher?"

He pointed at Steve and Bruce, stating, "They have totally slept together which means both of you owe me money!"

Steve reached for his wallet as Bruce reached over to still his hands, "Wait. The bet was on if they were currently sleeping together. Not if they had ever slept together. Until this is clarified, neither of us owes you money."

Tony's face fell, disappointed. But he got over it quickly as Pepper slapped the back of his head.

"Why are you making bets on someone-who-knows-several-ways-to-kill-you-with-a-paperclip's love life? Do you have a death wish? "

Clint laughed at this and glanced at Natasha's surprisingly clear expression.

Oh yeah, she totally had a cut coming to her from Steve and Bruce when this bet was settled. Tony Stark was screwed.

"Ok. Story time is over for today. Maybe you will get a new story next time," Natasha said as she moved her chess piece across the board before she stood up and exited the room.

Clint looked down at the board and said, "Well, shit."

**A/N: ****À**** bient****ôt means see you soon, in case no one got that from Clint.**

**Vous allez être chanceux, is to say you (plural) are going to get lucky**

** And Bonsoir, les beaux gens means Good evening, beautiful people.**

**Of course I have only had one semester of French, so if anyone is fluent and can fix it for me, please message me or leave me a review so I can fix it. I especially don't know if "get lucky" is a phrase that translates into French.**


	3. Cold as Stone Part 1

**A/N: Alright guys. This was a shorter wait than last time, but man, did this give me a hard time. I hope you enjoy it and I will get Part 2 up ASAP. Hopefully by tomorrow actually. This is kind of a filler that has nothing to do with the song, but it was necessary to get to the part that does have to do with the song. Onward...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is recognizable. Especially the characters and the music.**

Own the Night

Ch. 3 Cold as Stone Part 1

Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

"Do you think Tony will leave us alone now? I mean, how much further can this go now that we have had 'sex,'" Natasha said, complete with air quotes around the word sex.

However, before Clint could answer, Tony Stark walked though and said, "So, are you two secretly married or something?"

Clint and Natasha looked at each other and groaned.

"Is that a yes?" the billionaire questioned obnoxiously.

Natasha leveled him with a glare that would have less egocentric men on the floor, crying.

"Right. I think I will leave now. But you are so continuing this. I want to know how he convinced you to join S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony smirked and quickly made his way out the door to avoid the angry Russian assassin, who Pepper had kindly pointed out earlier, could kill him in a multitude of ways.

_~Sometime Later~_

Once again, everyone was crowded into Natasha's kitchen as Bruce was making stir-fry for dinner.

Steve was grabbing plates and glasses from the cabinet to the right and up of the stove, while Thor and Tony were discussing microwavable foods.

Poptarts were not one of the main food groups, according to Pepper, and the two men were planning out alternatives for the Asgardian.

Clint, who had run to the store down the block, had just gotten back with it and a surprise for Natasha.

He knew it was one of her guilty pleasures that she didn't let herself indulge in often, but when he had seen the red velvet cupcake being pulled from the oven and set out on the display, he had to get it for her.

And hey, if she wanted to share, who was he to decline?

Natasha walked into the kitchen not long after Clint and stopped in the doorway.

He had that smile on his face.

It almost put a smile on her face.

But she was Natasha Romanoff, The Black Widow, and she was above emotions such as happiness, or so she told herself.

Clint handed Pepper the soy sauce and reached out to help Steve put the plates around the table, while keeping the bag in his hand.

So there was something in the bag.

As if he could feel her contemplating the remnants of his shopping trip, he turned and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed and went to help with dinner, she would find out what was in the bag later.

_~After Dinner~_

Dinner had gone fine and the conversation had revolved around something that wasn't Clint and Natasha for once, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had a feeling that it was the calm before the storm.

Especially with the way Tony kept looking at Thor.

Finally taking the hint, Thor started unsurely, "Friends, I enjoyed listening to your tale the other day. Might you continue on to how you became agents of the S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Natasha, who had been having a rather decent time until then, felt her face deflate.

She did not want to tell this part of the story.

It was wrought with heartache and pain, not to mention the loss of control of her life as she became submerged within the Red Room and being the Black Widow.

Clint, knowing that Natasha would have a hard time with this, thought it now to be a good time to give her the cupcake.

"Hold up guys," he said as he reached into the bag.

"I saw this at the bakery down the street, and you so owe me, Romanoff," Clint joked as he handed her what had to be the best red velvet cupcake that had ever existed.

Natasha showed no emotion, unless one happened to notice that her eyes had widened and she accepted the gift much quicker than anything else that had been given to her that day.

Clint turned back to the fully fed listeners and said, "Now, before we get into how I got into S.H.I.E.L.D., we have to go back to how I got out of being a pickpocket and into an assassin."

~_Page Break~_

Bogota, Colombia, 2002

Clint couldn't believe that he had been so stupid, following Barney all the way to South America.

He just wanted to go home.

But what was home really? The circus? Barney? The pretty redhead that he ran into all over Europe, only to have the one night and never see again?

Clint was strongly suspecting that it was the Russian Beauty that he was longing for.

He had known, though, beforehand, that is was only going to be that one night.

So why couldn't he get her off his mind. She was lurking there, like a shadow.

She was the first thought he had in the morning and the last thought he had before he went to sleep.

He wasn't in love though, no, sir. It was just hormones. Yeah, he could claim hormones still, right?

Anyway, his heartache and his redhead were not what he needed to be concentrating on right at this moment.

Barney had just come back in from who knows where and he had that look on his face that suggested nothing but trouble to Clint.

"Bro, I have found us the perfect job! So, I ran into this guy a couple blocks from here at the cantina, you know, Los Sombreros Verdes? Anyway, he saw us shooting the other day and said he could use someone like us on his team! Then he showed me the wad of cash he made last week. Clint! It was this thick!"

Barney held his fingers up to gage the measure of the huge wad of cash.

"All hundreds, US, every single bill! Man, we have to get in on this!"

"What the hell, Barney! Do you even know where this money came from? He could be a drug dealer, or a hit man, or, or, I don't know! But I don't want to get caught up in something I can't get out of again." Clint raged at his dumbass brother.

"Clint, you have to do it. I already told him we would and he gave me half a payment as insurance. Clint, brother, just this once?" Barney pleaded.

Perhaps it was because Clint needed something to get the redhead off his mind or maybe he just wanted to make sure that his brother didn't get killed, that he said, "Alright Barney, just this once. Do you hear me? Never again or I will leave your useless ass here and let you get yourself killed."

~_This needs a page break~_

That first mission with Barney had turned out all kinds of wrong.

Before the game even started, the man in charge, who refused to answer to anything but El Jefe, had sized the brothers up.

He had made it perfectly clear to Clint that the job was to be accomplished, or important people were going to end up dead, important people being, of course, him and his dumbass brother.

El Jefe also decided that he was going to keep Barney as insurance on Clint. Barney didn't realize the threat, but Clint did.

If he didn't succeed, Barney was going to die, very painfully.

It rubbed Clint the wrong way.

Clint reluctantly accepted the terms, and went about protecting the shipment of cocaine like it was his life.

And really it was.

The next thing that happened was that a rival syndicate intercepted the package, and took out all the foot carriers.

El Jefe had given Clint a gun, but Clint didn't really trust guns as well as his trusty bow, and had dragged it along. Good call on his part.

Clint had been covering the movement from above, as he always had seen better from a distance, and the rival group didn't know he was there.

The gun that had been given to him was not one that could make that kind of shot.

So he discarded it and grabbed his bow, lined up his shot and waited for the perfect moment.

He killed the three men holding the cocaine, and seven more who trailed in after them.

He finished the job himself and made his way back to Los Sombreros Verdes.

El Jefe was pleased.

Clint was not.

But he had no way out now, what with the way Barney was taken in by the money that Clint was making for them.

He wouldn't walk away.

So Clint had changed. No longer was he Clint Barton. He was now El Halcón, the Hawk, and the most feared assassin in Colombia.

~_Another page break here~_

It was all good until Clint's final mission with the syndicate.

Of course, had things not gone the way they had, Clint would still be working for the syndicate.

But they hadn't, and so he didn't anymore.

On Clint's final mission, he ran into the person who would single-handedly turn his life around.

Before the appearance of Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D., Clint had followed orders and not acted up.

After the appearance of Agent Phil Coulson, Clint could see a way out of the life Barney and he had created.

Agent Coulson had appeared one day, after a particularly clever mission that Clint had completed, sitting in Clint's favorite chair in his kitchen, drinking Clint's coffee from his favorite mug.

Clint was tense. There was a suit, of the men in black variety, sitting in HIS chair, in HIS kitchen, drinking HIS coffee, like they were old friends.

Coulson started, "So they call you El Halcón. Why is that?"

Clint, detecting the general bad ass-ery surrounding the agent, decided to pull up a chair instead of trying to take the man out.

He would obviously have friends, and that suit looked expensive.

Coulson apparently was not waiting for Clint to answer, because he opened a manila file in his hand, and continued, "The Hawk. Known for his signature weapon, the bow and arrow, and his ability to never miss. Tell me, Mr. Barton, do you ever miss?"

Clint, wanting to know what this was about quickly said, "Look sir, does this have a point or are you just here to threaten me? Because if you are, could you please hurry it up? I have better things to do than sit around reading my resume."

Coulson's face broke into a grin. Clint was now passed tense and had moved into worried.

"So you don't miss your targets?"

"Not to date, sir."

An intense staring contest commenced as Clint tried to grasp the significance of this obviously unhinged agent. Who stares down an assassin?

Coulson broke eye contact in favor of looking at the file again.

"That was a clever bit of shooting, down in Medellín," he said finally.

"Thank you, sir. I try to entertain myself."

"Perhaps you would like to entertain yourself somewhere where you have a choice?" the agent offered.

Clint wasn't going to lie, he was intrigued, but he had Barney to worry about so he just laughed and said, "Yeah, sure. That would be a dream, but I have my brother I have to take care of and there is now way we're ever getting out of this. We're in too deep."

"You could walk away. Right now. Hop on my plane and never come back. You and your brother both," Coulson said as he casually took a sip of the coffee.

Just as Clint was going to answer, Barney came rushing in the front door.

"Clint, Clint! Man, you – Who the hell are you?" Barney inquired as he came into the kitchen to see his brother talking to someone who was clearly not with the syndicate.

"Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," he stood up and pulled his card from his pocket, sliding it over to Clint.

"Thank you for the coffee. We will be in touch," he said as he walked passed Barney and out the front door.

"Man, what is it with you and all these mysterious types? First there was that girl in Warsaw who followed us around Europe, and now the suit? Are you trying to get us killed? You know El Jefe won't be pleased if he finds out," Barney continued on, but Clint was no longer listening.

He had a way out.

~_Two Weeks After the Arrival Of Agent Coulson~_

Clint had spent the last fortnight trying to convince Barney that going to Agent Phil Coulson was the best idea he had ever had.

Barney, too enticed by the dough they were raking in, wasn't buying it.

"Clint, why would you want to go work for some government agency that will put a damper on all you are making? Do you not see what you are doing here is good? You're making sure that our assets are protected. These other people trying to butt in on our market would be so much worse than we are now. I think you need to think about your priorities, brother," Barney would say.

Clint was starting to worry. Barney had never been too much of an idiot, but it seemed the money, drugs, and women were finally breaking him.

But Clint couldn't just leave him. It was his brother and he loved him despite his issues.

But apparently that love did not go both ways.

Clint had wandered into the syndicate headquarters to pick up his next assignment and was meet by a massive amount of members.

Either something big was fixing to go down, or someone was fixing to get hit.

Clint had a feeling it was the latter and his odds weren't looking so great as he took in the glares the thugs were giving him.

Standing up by El Jefe was Barney, looking smug and proud of himself.

Clint walked up to the boss, "Here for my next mission," he said as confidently as possible.

"Oh, Halcón, a little birdy has told me that you are not content within our organization. That you have a problem doing your job now. That you want to leave, is this true, El Halcón? Do you want to leave our graces, little bird?" the large Colombian man said.

The hair on the back of Clint's neck bristled. This was not good. Barney was supposed to keep that to himself.

"I guess my insurance policy doesn't seem as stable now as before, yes? Did your brother know, before he betrayed you to me, that you are the reason he is still alive today, hmmm? No, but see, your brother has become indispensible to our organization. He will be spared, but you; you are not so indispensible, little hawk. Hit men are a dime a dozen in these parts," El Jefe said as he continued to clean a gun he had been holding in his hands.

Barney, just realizing that the boss wasn't going to straighten Clint out, but rather off him instead, was forming a worried expression upon his face.

Clint could feel his body gearing up for a fight. He had counted the number of people as he had walked in, a habit he had formed lately, and he was devising the best way to escape with his life.

He wasn't going to lie to himself at a time like this; his odds were pretty grim.

He did have his bow and forty-five arrows, but that wouldn't keep him alive. There were just too many men.

He also had a small handgun strapped to his ankle, but that was more of a last resort weapon.

He needed help. Desperately.

The two men, Clint and El Jefe, entered in a stare down, wondering who was going to make the first move.

El Jefe settled the dispute with a quick, "Kill him."

And gunshots filled the air.

Clint rolled out of the way and reached for his bow. If he were going to die, he was going down fighting.

He loosed a couple of bolts around the warehouse floor and didn't wait to see if they connected with his targets. He knew they did.

He soon ducked under cover of a large shipment of drugs in massive crates.

Breathing hard, Clint steeled himself for the next round.

"No you idiots! Don't destroy the product! Go around!" yelled someone.

It looked like they were bringing the party to him.

Clint assessed the situation. The door was only thirty yards away and if he could make it to that, he could regroup.

He had made it about ten yards when there was a crash and the windows of the warehouse were busted as men in black came bursting through.

Agent Phil Coulson soon materialized by his side.

"Made your decision about going to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. yet?" the agent said as he fired a round off into fray.

"I'm all yours if we make it out of here alive," the assassin replied.

The firefight didn't last long after that.

The men in black, S.H.I.E.L.D. apparently, rounded up the remaining men of the syndicate that were not lying wasted on the floor.

Clint began searching for Barney.

He unfortunately found him, lying in a puddle of blood behind a crate shipment. At least the dumbass had known to hide, a lot of good that had done him it seemed.

Barney had been shot, but he was going to be ok. It was a through and through in his right shoulder, according to the S.H.I.E.L.D. medic.

"Serves you right, getting shot, you idiot. Why would you do that to me?"

"I'm sorry, Clint. I didn't know that they would try to kill you. Maybe we should go home after this yeah? No more trick shots and stealing, right? I can work at Wal-Mart or something," Barney rambled on as the medic treated his shoulder.

"Yeah, you can go work at Wal-Mart and we won't ever have to deal with this kind of crazy shit again," Clint commiserated with his brother. "I'm going to go talk to Agent Coulson real quick. You stay put, ok? Do what ever the medic here says, yeah?"

"Oh, trust me. I'm not going anywhere. This hurts like a bitch!" Clint chuckled somewhat frantically as he realized that yes, they had survived this whole ordeal.

He soon found Agent Coulson, who was waiting for him near the front of the warehouse.

"So, how did you guys know I needed some help back there?" Clint asked, pointing over his shoulder to the area behind him.

"Mr. Barton, we've had eyes on you for a very long time. It would have been a waste of time and resources for us to allow you to be killed in a petty drug ring operation dispute," said Coulson, as if this kind of thing happened everyday.

Clint wasn't entirely sure that it didn't.

"So Barton, I have a question for you," Coulson continued passed Clint's disbelieving face, "Do you ever miss?"

Whatever Clint had expected that had not be it.

"Because my agents have yet to find a bolt that did not meet its target."

Clint took a glance around the room and said, "Well, sir, I haven't missed yet."

"Welcome to the team, Barton," Coulson said as he stuck his hand out to shake Clint's.

"So, S.H.I.E.L.D.? What is it? I would kind of like to know what I've agreed to before I sign away my life on paper," Clint said rubbing the back of his head.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is an espionage and secret military law-enforcement agency that deals with problems that other agencies cannot handle. We could use someone like you on our team." Coulson explained.

"What would I be doing for this agency? I mean, I have a particular skill set and that's not likely to change," Clint said.

"Well, you would continue to be an assassin, but unlike here, you can turn down a mission if you don't think you can do it. It's not like we don't have others who can finish the job. I suspect, though, that you would be a very useful field agent, not just a mindless killing machine," Coulson trailed off.

"Well," Clint said as he reached to shake the agent's hand, "where do I sign?"

Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

Natasha had finished off her cupcake and was now as enraptured by Clint's story as the rest of the occupants of the room.

"I seriously thought you were going to say that you killed your brother there for a minute," she deadpanned to Clint.

He crinkled up his eyebrows for a second and said, "Nat, you've met Barney. He works at the Wal-Mart in Waverly, remember?"

"I know that! I just got caught up in the story," she said testily as she stood to take the plate that held what was previously her cupcake to the sink.

Tony butted into the conversation with, "Damn, Barton! You lead an exciting life! I can't wait to hear how you convinced Romanoff to join too."

Steve, who had been mostly silent throughout the whole ordeal said, "I have a feeling that story might even be more wrought with terror than this one."

Clint smiled, confirming Steve's theory, and said, "Shall we jump right into it then?"

**A/N: Review please? Any suggestions or comments are welcome.**


	4. Cold as Stone Part 2

**A/N: It is now 11:30pm and I am updating, so I barely made it guys! **

**I would like to thank the French reviewer that helped me out in Chapter 2 and everyone else who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed. You guys are amazing! It's really nice to know that someone else is interested in this story I have created in my head! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own, not one thing. Well, the idea, but you get the picture. :)**

**Without further ado, I present... **

Own the Night

Ch. 4 Cold as Stone Part 2

Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

"So, as Tasha said earlier, I never saw her after Carnac until Coulson handed me a file on The Black Widow. Of course, you would think that S.H.I.E.L.D. would have had a picture or something, but they didn't. She was obviously very good at her job, and I had proven to be exemplary in mine as well, so they handed me the Black Widow project and sent me out for surveillance. They didn't even know what she looked like, just that she needed to be stopped…"

S.H.I.E.L.D. Head Quarters, United States, 2005

Clint looked down at the file handed to him by his handler, Agent Phil Coulson.

Clint had tried to work for other handlers, but none of them seemed to be able to keep up with the sharp witted assassin, so he always revolved back around to Coulson.

Not that either man minded. There was a sense of affability between the two men that was not present between the others.

Perhaps it was because Coulson had saved Clint's life more than once, or more likely, because he always had a smartass comment to keep Clint focused.

Hawkeye, as the others had taken to calling him, was baffled by the general sense that arose from watching Coulson work. That sense being, well, badass.

Clint could definitely respect Coulson because he had earned it; other handlers, not so much in his sharp eyesight.

Coulson was a total BAMF and he knew that everyone knew it.

But really, The Black Widow file? Clint was a little disappointed in S.H.I.E.L.D.

It was a slim, barely-there dossier outlining some of the victims that had fallen prey to the deadly woman. There wasn't even a good or semi-decent picture; just a blurred mass of red hair trailing after a pair of black Louboutin stilettos.

Not exactly the best intel Clint had ever been handed.

Yet he was looking forward to this mission just a little bit more than others before.

Something about this was familiar.

For the first time in about a year, when Clint went to go to sleep, his redhead drifted through his mind, like a harbinger preparing him for what was to come.

_~Page Break~_

When he awoke the next morning, it had been from a good dream, the remnants of which he could not quite seem to grasp as they drifted way in the bright sunlight.

He had a feeling it had something to do with his time in Carnac though.

Clint, knowing that this train of thought only brought about pain and carelessness, quickly locked that thought in the back of his mind so he might forget it soon.

The able assassin quickly got ready and grabbed his gear.

One perk of working for S.H.I.E.L.D. was he got to play with the best toys.

His bow, while simple and elegant, had been upgraded and his arrows, well, they had been tricked out.

Let's just say that he spent several days on the firing range checking all his new toys out.

That had been ages ago, and now he was very familiar with his weapon.

He headed for the jet that was to take him to Russia to bag himself a spider.

Murmansk, Russia, 2005

The first thing that Clint did after he arrived in the freezing "Gates to the Artic" as the tourists called it, was find the bar that the Black Widow was said to frequent.

S.H.I.E.L.D. apparently wanted information on the lady they didn't have before he killed her.

Not that it would matter after, but those were his orders. He was going to follow them.

Besides, he was in Russia. He hadn't had a good shot of Vodka since that club in Warsaw that he shared with his Russian redhead.

Ah, the Russian redhead. Now was not the time to be thinking of such hard things.

There was vodka to be drinking.

Clint ordered and sat at the bar in a similar fashion to what he had done in Poland.

Imagine his surprise when he turned around and witnessed a scene so similar to the one in that dark bar in Poland, that he shot vodka through his nose.

"Oh, of all the gin joints in all the world..." Clint trailed off as the bartender handed him a napkin.

Dancing on the floor with some rich tourists was his redhead.

Well, damn. So much for that plan.

She had matured. While her body had always been enticing, it now looked deadly.

Her legs were firm muscle and she had a way about her that suggested she was in total control of every situation surrounding her.

It was kind of scary how much a few years had changed his nameless friend.

He continued to watch as she continued to move, just like that first night. He knew that she would come to him eventually, she always had.

He waited and waited until finally she pushed away from the group of rich men and made her way towards him.

Just as she reached the bar she ordered a shot of vodka and was served immediately.

She downed the shot and went to walk passed Clint.

As she walked passed, she grabbed him by his collar and pulled him up after her.

Really, had it been anyone else, they would have been on the ground, but it was her, so he followed her into the alley.

"Who are you and what do you want? Why are you staring at me? I have work to do and you are upsetting my clients," she said directly in Russian as she shoved him into the brick wall of the building.

Clint's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "Wait a minute. You don't know who I am?"

The redhead must have sensed that he wasn't here to hurt her and she dropped him.

As Clint collected himself off the ground, she questioned, "Why would I know who you are?"

Clint let out a low whistle and said, "Damn. I didn't think I was that forgettable. I mean, if it was just Warsaw maybe, but surely you remember Carnac? The beach? The crazy French dude who spilled wine all over your dress? The fun we had removing that dress?"

The woman, who had been searching him for weapons (she found four: two knives, a handgun, and a slingshot) quickly glanced up at him and said, "I have never seen you before in my life."

Her eyes shifted down to the end of the alleyway and she grabbed his hand and pulled him after her.

"Right, you don't remember me and your dragging me off somewhere. Should I be fighting this more?" Clint asked, knowing he would follow wherever she was leading him. He had confidence that he would be ok because, while she had discovered his weapons, she had not taken them.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his conscience whispered, "Are you sure that this is your redhead and not someone who looks remarkably similar?"

No, Clint was absolutely positive that she was the woman who he had been chasing in his dreams for the last four years.

They reached the end of the alleyway and the redhead leaned her head around the corner, checking the people wandering in the streets.

She pulled his arm around her shoulders and said, "Act natural. We don't want to tip anyone off."

Clint, who was thoroughly confused at this point, did as she said.

She led them a couple of blocks down and into a dingy apartment building.

The elevator was broken and so the pair headed towards the stairs.

She was watching their backs the entire time.

Clint, getting the feeling that something was amiss, planned to question her upon entry of the apartment.

It had taken the redhead five minutes to disable the booby traps she had placed along the entrance.

This was sending up all kinds of red flags in Clint's mind now, but he continued to wait on her.

Finally, they entered the apartment, and as soon as the door closed, Clint asked, "What the hell is going on and who the hell are you?"

Natasha, who was under the impression that he knew who she was, came to a stand still with a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.

"You said you know who I am! Who the hell are you?" she exclaimed quickly.

"Well, yeah, I know you. I just never learned your name. Mine's Clint by the way, Clint Barton," the archer said to the skittish redhead.

"Natasha," she said, and then paused, "Really? We never learned each other's names? I'm under the impression we were pretty close."

"Yeah, but names didn't really seem that important at the time. You are still to this day the only person who has ever made me in my perch, Natasha," the sniper said.

While Clint had been talking, Natasha was checking the windows, as if she was expecting company of the not so pleasant kind.

When she was satisfied, she turned to him and said, "Ok, I believe you. I have had a feeling that someone has been fucking with my head for a lot longer than I had even begun to realize."

She glanced out the window again.

"It's not safe to be around me right now. I need you to leave. But before you leave, I need you to explain everything, how we met, what we did, everything. Do you understand?" Natasha said.

Clint, catching the hint of desperation in her eyes, sat down and began the story.

_~Page Break~_

Halfway through their tale, Natasha sat up straight on the floor where she had been slouching, "I thought all of that was a dream. You're telling me that this really happened? All of this?"

Clint assured her that yes, it had happened and it was damn well some of his better memories.

Natasha had been glancing out the windows frequently the entire time this had gone down, but now she stood.

"Alright, thank you for clearing that up for me. I don't think we need ever meet again," she said as she dragged him to the door and shoved him through it, "I would really never like to see your face again, understand?"

Clint could feel his heart break, again. It was such a cruel world that would deprive him of the only thing he really wanted, dangle it above his head, and then snatch it away again, as if he were a mouse and it a string of yarn.

"Well screw you too, princess!" he yelled at the door as he walked away.

_~I wish I was cold as stone, then I wouldn't feel a thing~_

Clint, under the crushing pressure of being rejected by someone he had be pining (not that he would admit it) after for _years_ now, quickly made his way to the check point to check in with S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Barton: Report."

"No sign of the Black Widow, sir."

"Confirmed. Next check in will be in two days time. Over."

Clint wanted to slam his comm down on the table, but thought better of it. He would need a job now that he didn't have a purpose to live.

When had she wormed her way so far into his heart that he couldn't handle her not being there? It didn't even make sense; he hadn't had her in four years, for goodness sake.

Well, Clint decided, at least I don't have to worry about any distractions now.

How very wrong he was.

~_A few days later~_

S.H.I.E.L.D. had found the Black Widow and knew where she was going to be tonight.

Clint, after being informed of this, had been sent to find a perch and ordered to take the shot should it become available.

Coulson, unfortunately, had been pulled away for some reason and some asshole had replaced him.

So Clint had been sitting in the freezing ass cold Murmansk wind and snow, waiting for a shadow dweller to appear so that he could swat her and get his ass back to some warmth.

Seriously, his next mission, he was demanding to be sent to the freaking jungle or somewhere as warm.

After a few hours, one of the men on the ground team said into the comms, "I have a visual, sir, red hair, green dress, and a killer pair of stilettos. She's headed your way Barton."

Clint geared up to take his shot. This needed to be as mess less as possible.

As the Black Widow came around the corner, Clint felt his arms go slack, "Oh, HELL no…" he said under his breath as she slipped into the building.

"Barton: Report! Why didn't you take the shot?" demanded the evil S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that wasn't Coulson.

"Sir, there was no shot. The conditions would have prevented it from reaching the target and it would have alerted her to our presence," Clint quickly relayed to his handler, wishing he had Coulson with him here instead of this annoying prick. Yet, Clint was kind of glad that it wasn't Coulson, because he would have called him on his bullshit.

"Alright Barton. Remember, constant vigilance."

Clint tried his best to not laugh out right at that ridiculous statement. The dumbass was channeling Mad-Eye Moody now.

Clint caught himself and settled back into his waiting position. That was definitely being filed in the back of his mind to tell Coulson later.

Damn, of course. Why hadn't he realized it earlier? Of course his redhead, Natasha, was the Black Widow. Who else could it have been? All the clues had been lying there from the very beginning.

The rich "clients," the red hair, and really, she just had that air about her if he was to be completely honest.

But Clint couldn't reconcile the image of his youth to that, that, that… No, he could, really, because this couldn't play out any other way.

And really, what made him any different?

But something was itching at the back of Clint's mind. She had seemed agitated when he was at her apartment. He had figured that she just had a big Russian boyfriend at the time and was playing dumb.

As he had continued through their story, though, he was strongly suspecting that she literally could not remember him.

Yet, she must have done, even just a little, because she let him into her sanctuary. And that is what her apartment was, her sanctuary.

Something was fishy here and Clint didn't like it.

Really he was trying not to care about her, but she was making it too damn hard.

Clint decided to break the radio silence in favor of some quick answers, "Sir, could you go over the Black Widow file with me again really quick?"

"Barton, now is not the time for this. Don't be such an ass," the steadily-growing-more-hated handler said.

"I know sir, but I just thought of something that I need confirmed."

"Alright. Whatever. The Black Widow, she's a Red Room assassin. Signature is killing rich men by seducing them away to some shadows and dropping them quickly. Known physical features before today were red hair and a pair of Louboutin shoes. She is a ghost, and we have found her so you are going to take the shot when it is available, Barton," the agent rattled off.

Clint, upon hearing this, said, "That is what I thought, sir."

If this situation got any fishier, it would be a freaking koi pond.

She had walked away from him. He didn't need to worry about it. Just take the shot like Agent Asshole said.

"But sir, if she works for the Red Room, why are there Red Room operatives, clearly armed, making their way into the building?"

"Bart-" started Agent Asshole, but he was cut off. There sounded to be a struggle at the other end of the comm, but Clint wasn't paying attention to that.

There had been gunfire inside the building.

Clint jumped from his crouch and yelled, "Natasha!"

He proceeded to jump down off the ledge on which he was standing onto the roof of his building that was across from the one where the gunfire was heard.

Coulson's voice filled his ears, "Get in there, Barton! They're on the sixth floor, third window to the right."

Clint quickly acknowledged the change of management, and shot an arrow that would land him in the before mentioned window.

He took a running leap and jumped on the line.

Thank god S.H.I.E.L.D. had upgraded his arrows was the only thing that ran through his mind just before he crashed through the window.

He wasted no time as he rolled up from his entrance in finding Natasha. She was off to the side, dealing with what appeared to be several big, angry men.

Clint loosed a few bolts at targets coming at him from other directions and made is way towards her.

Not that he really had time to, but Clint had to admit, at least to himself, that the way that last Red Room operative had gone would not be an unpleasant one. In fact, given the choice, Clint thought he would choose a death by Natasha's thighs.

But that was beside the point, and he loosed a few more bolts at her attackers.

Clint really worked best from a distance, but this was no situation that allowed that kind of precision. So he geared up and used what hand-to-hand combat he knew.

Men were flying through the air, and somewhere, in the middle of the fight, Clint and Natasha had started yelling warnings at each other.

They certainly made a good team, they both concluded in the melee.

Soon there was only a couple of men left.

One pulled a knife, ready to go, and the other, glancing around the room, took off sprinting for the door.

Poor fellow didn't make it ten feet before he had an arrow lodged in his back.

However, the man with the knife was approaching Natasha with a glint of psychosis in his eyes.

Despite this, Natasha said, "I have this one. You can leave if you want," glancing at Clint as though this was everyday routine to her.

"I think I'll stick around, just to make sure," he replied as he readied his bow.

Natasha didn't need the help, though, and she dispatched of the man quickly and effectively.

The assassins shared a look and Clint broke out into a hysterical laughter.

Natasha looked at him questioningly and as if he had lost his mind.

"This whole time it was you," he said to her, "I was sent here to kill you. I'm the reason you kept looking out the windows the other day! Hahahaha!"

Natasha tensed up at this.

"No, I'm not going to kill you! That would be really stupid now, wouldn't it? Haha! Look, it seems like this is not the best area for you to be in right now, and I think you would do well at S.H.I.E.L.D. Come with me and we can settle you in with a job, yeah?" Clint offered.

Natasha looked at him wearily, "Why would I want to go work for an agency that was sent here to kill me?"

"Oh, I don't think their aim was ever to kill you. I think that's just what they told everyone," Clint said to the confused Russian.

"Are you alright? Did you bump you head when you crashed through that window? Because you are not making any sense whatsoever," she asked skeptically.

"Haha! If they had wanted you dead, they would have sent someone else. Coulson knows all about you and me. I've told him the story a million times, and don't think I didn't notice that he knew most of it before he ever heard it from me either," the archer said as he started pulling arrows from victims bodies.

"Huh. So that's what he meant when he said they'd had eyes on me for a while," he realized.

Natasha, tired of being out of the loop, slammed him up against a wall, "What the hell are you talking about Barton?"

"Woah, Princess. Just that I think they've been watching you for a while too! I think they knew that I wouldn't take that shot, because, well, I wouldn't take that shot. We have history! That's why they sent me. To convince you to join S.H.I.E.L.D., but if you don't, I figure we still have about a minute before agents swarm this place. You can go. I won't stop you," Clint said, suddenly sincere.

"What is this S.H.I.E.L.D.?" she asked, curious, releasing Clint from the wall.

"Well, it's a bad ass spy agency with a penchant for taking in lost souls and giving them a place to use their specific skill sets for the betterment of the world. You in?" Clint proposed.

Natasha glanced at his face, then down and out the window to the black suits starting into the building, "One condition," she said. "You're with me the whole time, yeah?"

Clint looked down at her, "Yeah, I think that can be arranged."

Clint raised his hand to signal the agents that everything was ok.

Coulson had heard everything through the comm, but he would never tell Clint how proud he was that he had figured it all out, even when he had come onto their radar.

Hawkeye was certainly smarter than some gave him credit for, the agent concluded as he made his way to the pair standing by the window, but just out of sight from the outside.

"Welcome to the team, Miss Romanoff," he said before he turned to the agent in charge of clean up to give him instructions.

Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

"Do you two ever not engage in glorious battle?" Thor said after Clint concluded this portion of the story.

Natasha snorted and said, "Apparently not."

Bruce was smiling down at the table and Tony, catching the physicist, said, "Bruce, you okay there buddy? Too much romance floating around or something? You have something on your face there. Great Gatsby! Is that a smile?" and then to the rest of the room's occupants, "It does have a heart!"

Pepper gave a quick shot of laughter and a roll of her eyes, and said, "Tony, stop projecting onto poor Bruce. You know it's you who is allergic to romance. Do you remember our anniversary?"

Everyone burst out laughing. That had been a disaster that Tony would never live down.

Steve was watching Natasha after everyone had calmed down until she said, "What do you want to know, Steve?"

"Why did you agree to go to S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Cap asked.

Natasha sighed, "Well, I wanted to live and I needed answers. Clint had those answers. Do you know what the Red Room did to me after I got back from France?"

Everyone but Clint turned to look at the female assassin. Clint just reached up and grabbed her hand, as if to be an anchor, grounding her.

"They took my head and played in it until I couldn't tell up from down, left from right, or good from bad. They erased my memories, over and over again, and replaced them," she said looking down at the table.

She reached for her coffee cup and brought it to her lips, but didn't take a sip.

"They were trying to get rid of me because I was resisting the process. I was remembering things that I wasn't supposed to, like Clint and Carnac and Warsaw. But they were just hazy dreams, so I wasn't sure that they were real until he showed up and confirmed that they were."

She sat back down in her chair, dragging her finger around the rim of the coffee mug.

"It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, making him walk away from me."

She stood up, unbalanced from the amount of emotion she had chosen to reveal, and walked to the sink. She dropped her coffee mug in and went to her room.

Clint's face looked shocked.

He looked back at the room, as if to confirm that he had, in fact, just heard Natasha Romanoff, The Black Widow, say that.

Seeing the confirmation on their faces, he shot out of his chair and raced towards her room.

"Man, Steve, how come she always answers you?" Tony asked.

**A/N: If you guys have any suggestions that would make this easier for you to read or anything really I would love to hear them. Questions, concerns, and suggestions are always welcome! Also, I try to answer every review so go ahead and leave one!**


	5. When You Were Mine

**A/N: And just for Loving-Lily15, who requested "When You Were Mine", I bring to you the girl bonding chapter! (Actually, this is just what fit into the story in my head next, but since you totally read my mind, you get a shout out. P.S. "Just a Kiss" is also just after this one… You can thank Pepper. Natasha listens to her for some reason…)**

**Also, I would like to give a shout out to mellbell12123 for making sure to leave a comment after almost every chapter. That is super nice of you and I really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I really don't own anything. I mean, I have a Space Jam pillowcase, but the Avengers and Lady A songs are not my property. **

Own the Night

Ch. 5 When You Were Mine

Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

Natasha and Pepper were in the kitchen on Nat's floor having a girls' night, because Lord knows they needed it.

It wasn't often that the boys of the tower left them alone for long, but, dammit, they were doing it today.

This may or may not have been because Pepper had bribed Jarvis into locking the boys off of Natasha's floor until tomorrow.

But anyway…

Nat and Pepper were catching up on all the girl things, including reading and making fun of Cosmopolitan.

Many would find it odd that the Russian assassin had a feminine side, but really, come on. She seduced men for a living, and she did it in sky-high Louboutin heels.

Sky-high Louboutin heels that she absolutely loved, thank you very much.

She definitely enjoyed the finer aspects that being a female entailed.

And one of those better finer aspects was getting with her girlfriends (okay, so it was only Pepper) and gossiping and drinking fruity cocktails.

She was with Pepper, who was dating Tony, who may or may not have a drinking problem (the jury was still out, but they were leaning heavily towards may).So of course the other redhead knew how to make a fierce martini (shaken, not stirred, as the spies usually take it…)

They had just finished a particularly laughter-inducing article in Cosmo when Pepper asked, "So, what's going on with you and Clint? I mean, it seems like you guys should be on the fast track to a white picket fence and two-point-five kids."

Natasha, unbelievable to both Pepper and herself, blushed.

"No, we're just friends," she said, picking at her nails.

"But you want to be more," Pepper wisely stated.

"No! No, uh, no. I mean, we've tried it before, but it doesn't really suit our lifestyle," Natasha said as she looked towards the window in the kitchen.

Natasha was surprised at herself. When had she become comfortable enough with anyone besides Clint to let this out in the open? And to someone who would relay everything back to Tony Stark of all people? It just wasn't like her. Or maybe it wasn't like the old her, the pre-Avenger her that trusted no one but Clint.

Glancing back at Pepper after a few seconds contemplation, Natasha recognized the reproachful look being thrown at her by Iron Man's girlfriend.

"You guys tried dating? Really? There is so much unresolved sexual tension around you guys," the former Stark Industries CEO said.

Nat laughed at that. That was because sex got you hurt. In bad ways. Like getting your heart broken.

She relayed this sentiment to Pepper.

Pepper unbelievingly said, "And you don't think your heart would be broken if he wasn't sleeping with you? Do you guys even realize what you're like? You gravitate towards each other."

Natasha started to protest, but was cut off, "No, don't deny it. You do. Where is Clint now?" she asked.

"On the roof, watching the traffic crawl in the streets below," she said without a moment's thought.

"And how do you know that?" Pepper prompted.

"I… I don't know. I just know that he is," Natasha finished in defeat.

"You guys are freakily hyper-aware of each other. Natasha, you love him, even if you aren't willing to admit it. Everyone else can see it every time they're around you. You love him, even if you guys say you are only friends. And Natasha, you love him, and every super villain and ego-tripping wannabe god out there knows it," Pepper pointed out kindly to her emotionally ignorant best friend. (They had gotten close based solely on the fact that it was hard to be Tony Stark's assistant and not want to kill him every other minute of every other day.)

Natasha's head shot up from where she had laid it across her arms to look at Pepper.

"So, what's stopping you from being with him?" Pepper finished.

"Pepper, love is for children," Natasha implored, more to convince herself than to convince Pepper.

Pepper took a sip of her martini with confidence.

"Natasha, I have worked for Tony Stark for many, many years. And in those many, many years, I have become excellent at finding loopholes. Ms. Romanoff, here is a loophole for you: When you fell in love with that man, the one from the rooftop, you were a child. He was a child too. You were children and your hearts will hold onto that childish notion until the end of time," Pepper said as she leaned back, knowing that she had won.

Natasha banged her head back down onto her arms and groaned.

"I cannot be in love with him because I promised him I wouldn't fall in love with him," she finally said to her insightful best girlfriend.

Pepper just looked at the lovely assassin. The look clearly wondered why the hell she would do something like that.

"Urgh! I don't know! I was just so messed up after the Red Room, and Clint, and just, Urgh!" Natasha rambled off incoherently.

"See, this is why this is dangerous. What if I'm worried about this when I'm on a mission? He could end up dying because I wasn't paying attention!" she continued frantically.

"Oh, honey. I know. But what do you worry about when you're on a mission now? I assume it goes something like, my weapons, people attacking me, Clint, people attacking Clint, and then all that other stuff," Pepper said as she ran her fingers through Natasha's red curls comfortingly. "Would that really change, retrospectively?"

Natasha just glared up at her friend. When did she get so smart?

But Natasha supposed that Pepper was dating Tony Stark, proven genius, and that she probably picked up a few tricks from his brighter moments.

Pepper, sensing that perhaps Natasha's emotional capacity might not be up for this big of a discussion decided to change the subject slightly.

"Why don't you tell me about when you were together, hmm? Maybe I can see some points your way, yeah?" Pepper said diplomatically.

"Well, we dated. You know, and if any of this ever gets out, I will find you, but my favorite memories come from this time. He was just so… Clint. Funny and goofy but so understanding; he just, gets me, you know? He always has…" she trailed off.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Training Facilities, United States, 2006

Natasha had been a field agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. for six months now.

Clint had come through on his promise to be by her side the whole way through.

He hadn't gone through the training, but he was her training officer most of the time.

Most of the handlers in S.H.I.E.L.D. thought that this was the dumbest idea Fury had ever agreed to.

Why would you let a loose cannon like Barton train a free agent like Romanoff? It seemed to be asking for trouble, they would all say, in some form or another.

Coulson didn't think so. In fact, not that he would tell the two agents, but they were quickly becoming his favorite team to work with.

They saw the world differently than the other S.H.I.E.L.D. field agents. Phil liked to take some of the credit himself, but he knew that he had little influence on either assassin besides the fact that he had brought them back together.

Phil was a bit of a hopeless romantic at heart.

And when he had witnessed the man that had caught the Red Room's best new up-and-coming recruit attention back in 2001, he decided to keep an eye on the young man.

If there was anything that Philip Coulson's momma had taught him, it was that greatness attracted greatness. And who was he to defy his momma?

He had a feeling these two would be greatness, and he had not been proven wrong yet.

However much influence Phil didn't hold over either assassin, they held over each other. They have devolved into a single entity now, a perfect team.

And Phil was worried.

Phil was worried that, should their symbiosis be interrupted, neither would survive.

So he pushed the agents to train themselves harder, because, really, he would be an idiot to try to separate them.

The agent watched them spar in the gym and heard Romanoff laugh as she threw Barton into the mat with her thighs. She quickly rolled backwards and up onto her feet.

Clint stood and assumed a fighting position.

Coulson genuinely smiled as he saw Barton, who was tired of being thrown to the mat, abandon whatever technique they were working on and tackle Natasha.

Phil was sure that the female agent could have stopped the attack, but seriously doubted that she wanted to as he heard her break out into a robust laugh as Clint pinned her to the ground.

Coulson respected the pair well enough to leave them to their privacy after that point.

_~Page Break~_

"Clint! Clint! Haha! Let me up!" the female assassin said as she playfully fought back against his body lying on top of her.

"Nope! Not until you agree to going to dinner with me tonight, Nat!" Clint teased.

Natasha stilled. "Seriously, this is how you're going to ask me out?"

"Yeah, well, we've already slept together. I didn't think it would take too much effort," Clint said jokingly.

Natasha snorted and pushed him off of her playfully.

"You and your memories. You're going to have to try harder than that flyboy," she flippantly said as she walked off of the mat.

"Flyboy? Really Nat, I'm wounded. Won't you let me take you to dinner to make it up to me? I promise it will be worth your time. You can get dressed up all girly like I know you've been dying to and I'll wear something nice and we'll be normal for once in our lives," Clint said sincerely.

"You make a good case, kind sir. Where would this dinner be occurring, should I choose to accept your invitation?" Natasha continued on with the charade.

"How do you feel about the rooftop? I know all the great spots up there," he suggested.

"That sounds agreeable. Swing by my room at 1900 hours soldier," she said as she walked to the door to go to her room to get ready, throwing him a genuine smile that was reserved for him before she exited.

Clint sat smiling at the door for a couple of seconds after she left and then jumped to action. He had a very important date he had to make sure was perfect.

~_I felt the world was ours for the taking when I fell into your eyes, never a doubt that we would make it if we tried~_

Their date went off without a hitch. Something practically unheard of on a first date, but perhaps fate was on their side.

Like Phil's momma had said, greatness attracted greatness, and not even the laws of nature were going to mess with it that night.

They continued to date and it was the happiest Natasha had ever been.

She hadn't known what to expect when she accepted his offer to come work for S.H.I.E.L.D. but she doubted she would ever bring herself to regret the decision.

They had been dating for four months when Clint pulled her to the side of a group of agents that she was standing with and said, "We need to talk."

Natasha, not ever having heard these words, but knowing, as all girls do, that this was code for "something very bad is fixing to go down."

She was freaking out slightly (majorly) as she waited for him to find her later that night.

When he came to her door, she let him in and started talking before he even had a chance to say anything, "Look, I know I'm a little off, okay? But really, could you not have gotten me to fall for you even a little less if you were just going to break my heart here Barton. I mean, why did you fight so hard to get me here if all you were going to do wa- unmph!" she rambled until Clint's lips cut her off.

"Okay, Nat, I really should have used different words, but I'm not here to break up with you. God, just thinking that you thought that is putting knots in my stomach. Listen, I promise that I will never break your heart, okay, sweetheart? I promise that I will always tell you the truth, and I will always love you. Even if we break up, I promise I will be your best friend for the rest of time. Do you understand, Natasha?" Clint reassured what he was sure was the love of his life.

Natasha nodded and then punched him in the arm. "That's for making me have emotional reactions in front of other people."

Clint rubbed his arm and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's what I was trying to avoid when I said we needed to talk. Listen, I have to go on a mission by myself tomorrow and I wanted to tell you before I had to leave."

Natasha went to sleep that night feeling much more secure in her relationship.

It was a false sense of security.

~_Nearly One Week Later~_

Natasha wasn't aware of how long Clint was supposed to be on assignment, but the looks Coulson was throwing her was making her think it wasn't supposed to be this long.

Finally, fed up, she stalked into her favorite handler's office and demanded to know what the hell was up.

The resulting conversation was something that would be forever etched in her mind.

Clint was missing. Clint was missing and it was her fault.

He had been investigating the last of the Red Room operatives that were chasing the infamous Black Widow, and he had been captured.

Now he was missing because he had been tying up Natasha's loose ends.

Natasha's first reaction was to ream into Coulson for not telling her immediately after they had lost contact with Agent Barton. She called him Agent Barton because they were always professional when they were working.

But Coulson knew and approved of their relationship.

Coulson said that the director had ordered him not to inform her until the grace period was up. And if she hadn't asked, it would have been another day and three hours before he would have been able to tell her.

Natasha was livid. She turned to him and told him to grab his gear; they were going to Russia.

~_Page Break~_

After they had successfully extracted Clint from the clutches of those idiot Red Room operatives, they headed back to headquarters.

Upon arrival, Clint was immediately admitted to the medical bay.

But in the battle before they had gotten Clint, one of Natasha's old trainers had caught her off guard as she was trying to blaze her way through the building.

"Oh, look, it's little Natalya Romanova, the little spider with her head in the clouds. Tell me, little spider, did you ever find what you were looking for? A Hawk perhaps? Hehe. It is good you got away from this program. You are not suited for it, I think," the man said as he lay bleeding.

He continued to grate on Natasha's nerves, "You would not have done well, letting your heart get involved. Little spider, is that not the first thing we teach you here? You have opened yourself up to a weakness, a vulnerability, that you cannot guard yourself against."

"He's a good man," she shot at the dying man without being able to stop the words from tumbling from her mouth.

"Haha! Yes, he is a good man, you say. But there are others who would exploit your connection. Think little spider, use your head: you are not meant to love, only kill. It is your nature – The formidable Black Widow."

These were the man's last words, as he coughed and drew his last breath before he could say more.

This encounter would haunt Natasha's dreams for years.

As she continued to add to the red in her ledger, she could not bring herself to disagree with the man.

Clint, noticing the change within his beloved, tried to keep any form of open communication clear.

He feared he had lost her to her own mind.

But, it was easier to have a Natasha, even broken and self-doubting, than no Natasha at all.

So, when she came to him and said, "We need to talk," he said, "I know, and Nat, I promised I would never break your heart, I would never lie to you, and that I would always love you. Before we do this, I just want you to know those things haven't changed."

And so ended their romantic involvement, but out of it grew a partnership so great, even the test of time and aliens couldn't break it.

~_You said you'd be there, you said it last forever~_

Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

"Natasha. You have to let that go. Even if the relationship isn't there anymore, the emotions behind it are. I would even go so far as to say that they have grown even stronger. You have to tell him how you feel," Pepper pleaded. "You two are too self-sacrificing. You should take a leaf from Tony's book and get a little more selfish."

Natasha burst out laughing at that. Yeah, because taking advice from or following Tony's example was always a good idea…

"I do have a question though, and it's something I have always kind of wondered. What's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s policy on in-house dating?" Pepper questioned, sensing that Natasha couldn't take another serious talk today.

Natasha downed the last sip of her martini (shaken, not stirred) and said, "It's kind of like the CIA. They encourage it because it reduces the amount of people that know about the agency. But like most CIA relationships, shit hits the fan quite often. I think everyone was a bit surprised when Clint and I didn't repel each other like the same ends of a magnet when we broke it off."

"You know people in the CIA who have successful relationships?" Pepper asked, wanting to know the gossip and to get Natasha off the subject.

"Only one couple, and I'm not sure they're even together. He is her handler, though, and her best friend. He does seem to take pretty good care of his agent, however," she said as she wiggled her eyebrows at Pepper and they moved on to lighter subjects.

**A/N: Bonus points to anyone who knows who the CIA couple is. :D**

**Leave your answers in a review, or don't, but please review if you have the time!**


	6. Just A Kiss

**A/N: Alright guys. Here's the big one. I am really pleased with it right now so I hope everyone likes it. :D **

**Disclaimer: Don't own, but if I could have a romance like this I would take it.**

**Without further ado, because you need to read this right now...**

Own the Night

Ch. 6 Just a Kiss

Stark Tower, New York City, 2012

Three days.

That's how long it had been since Pepper and Natasha had their little party.

It was also the amount of time it had been since Natasha decided to practically run out of the room any time he was around her.

Clint was fed up.

"Pepper!" he yelled quietly as he came into the living room where the red head was looking through the DVD choices, holding a glass of wine.

Ms. Potts jumped slightly, causing her drink to nearly slosh out of the glass as her eyes widened and she dropped the DVD case she had in her other hand.

"Jeez, Clint! You about gave me a heart attack!" she said with a relieved laugh.

"Yeah, well, I'm just returning the favor," he said, obviously upset.

"What? I think you need to elaborate just a little," the redhead said diplomatically.

"What the hell did you do to Natasha? She won't talk to me. She won't look at me. Hell, she won't even stay in the same room as me!" the confused archer explained quickly.

Pepper, realizing what this was about, tucked the DVD under her arm and took a sip of her wine.

"Oh, Natasha," she muttered under her breath, exasperatedly, so Clint couldn't hear her.

To him she said, "I'm sorry? I hadn't noticed."

Clint snorted in disbelief, "Yeah, you didn't notice. You didn't notice that she hasn't been at breakfast since your little cosmo party? You didn't notice her practically run out of the room yesterday when I walked in? Yeah Pepper, you date Tony freaking Stark. You notice everything. It's kinda your job."

Pepper took another sip of her wine. She decided it would be better to let him get all of this out.

"But that's not the point here. The point is that she won't freaking talk to me! What if we're called out on a mission? Huh? What if she has to be around me? I know she's going through something here, but she can't not talk to me!" Clint rambled on frantically.

Wow, Pepper thought, he's as invested in this relationship as she is.

He took a big gulp of air, as if to compose himself, and said, "So, I need to know what's wrong so I can fix it. You have that information and I need it. Now."

Pepper stared at him. Why were those two not already together? It was just sad how perfectly they fit together and they didn't even act on it.

Such a shame, really.

With that Tony Stark came bursting through the doorway.

"Barton, get the hell away from my woman. You have a problem, you take it up with me!" the man with the glowing chest said valiantly.

Pepper, silently laughing at Tony – because seriously, Tony defending her to Clint was rather endearing – stepped between the two men and said, "Well gentlemen, as interesting as this conversation has been, I'm going to go now. Tony, stop being ridiculous and come on."

She grabbed her Iron Man by the front of his shirt and dragged him towards the door.

Before the couple exited, she turned to Clint and said, "Clint, I promise that she's alright and that you don't need to be so worried. Just give her some time to figure everything out. I suspect she's coming to terms with some stuff that she's suppressed for a really long time."

And with that, Pepper Potts exited the room, leaving Clint just as confused as before, but slightly more mollified.

Screw it. He was going to the roof. If she wanted to get over her little temper tantrum, she could come find him herself.

~:_Page Break:~_

Natasha was freaking out slightly (massively, like Tony just flew a nuke into outer space and Pepper didn't answer her freaking phone freaking out).

She was content before. Why did Pepper have to go and rock the boat?

Well, that was an incomplete analogy. Pepper didn't rock the boat so much as she shattered the reality that Natasha had lived in forever.

Before, Natasha was just fine living in her little blue room in her little blue house on her little blue world.

Then Clint had shown up and she started seeing colors like aquamarine and teal and azure.

That was fine. Everyone likes a little variety, but it was still shades of blue.

But then Pepper came in and threw bright-freaking-ORANGE in her face, along with every other color of the freaking rainbow. And all those colors were seeping into her blue reality. Those new, bright colors were now attached to Clint. It was just too much for her to take.

She could handle having feelings for Clint. Feelings weren't love.

She could say that she cared for Clint. She trusted Clint. She would protect Clint above everything else. If someone took Clint, she would get him back.

These were things that she could handle, different shades of blue.

Loving Clint? That was like going to a glow party on a rainbow in the middle of Carnival while wearing Timothy Leary's reading glasses.

She no longer lived in the blue room.

That is what had forced her to avoid him for the last three days.

She could tell he was hurt, but she just couldn't… deal.

Besides, why had he been hurt? He knew she didn't do emotions.

Well, actually, now that she thought about it, that wasn't entirely true. She did emotions as long as it was Clint.

She needed to talk to someone and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Pepper freaking Potts.

She got Natasha into this, and Natasha wasn't going to trust her long enough to give her a chance to get her out of it.

Well, shit. She needed to talk to Clint, but she couldn't talk to Clint about Clint.

Oh, how she missed that blue room.

~_:It's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe:~_

Steve Rogers was observant. One time, he even pinpointed several HYDRA bases on a map of Europe within thirty to forty miles with just a glance at their locations when he found Bucky.

That was pretty impressive if you were asking anyone but Steve Rogers.

However, as mentioned before, Steve Rogers was observant.

He highly doubted he needed to be to notice the tension that surrounded the Avengers' resident assassins.

Natasha was avoiding Clint. Any time both were in a room together, she would quickly slip out the door.

This was hurting Clint.

Steve was sure that even Thor, who was distracted by Midgard technology, had noticed.

But if Steve hadn't noticed and he hadn't been observant, his chance meeting with Clint in the hallway would have changed that drastically.

Clint was so… un-Clint-like. His shoulders were hunched down and he was looking at the floor. He looked thoroughly defeated.

This was the guy who had come out of an alien-induced sabbatical, been given a concussion by his partner and best friend, and STILL greeted a load of aliens with a smirk on his face.

Clint Barton didn't do downtrodden.

"Hey, Clint. You doing ok there?" Captain America, because that's who Steve was right now, a captain worried about one of his soldiers, questioned.

"What?" Clint said looking up, "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the roof. If any one's looking for me that's where I'll be," Clint didn't even smile at Steve as he pushed by and headed for the stairs.

"Right," Steve trailed off.

He needed to talk to Natasha.

~_:Page Break:~_

There was a knock at the door, and as if Natasha didn't feel her heart stop beating in that moment.

She wasn't ready to face him! Yeah, she needed to talk to him eventually, but now was not the time!

In the midst of her mini-freak out (she'd been having those too often), Steve announced himself with a quick, "Hey, Natasha. It's Steve. Can I come in?"

Her heart started again and she sighed in relief. It was just Steve. Steve was bluish. She could handle Steve.

She was pulling the door open to grant him entrance when she remembered that Steve tended to ask the right questions, especially when it came to her.

Her eyes widened and she tried to shut the door for about two-hundredths of a second when she remembered that Steve was Captain America.

The poor door wouldn't stand a chance.

Accepting her fate, she let him in fully, turned, walked to her bed, and promptly face planted onto it.

Steve laughed, "I take it you don't really want to have this discussion."

Natasha turned her head and glared at the doorway.

Steve laughed some more and made his way to the desk chair by her bed where he took a seat.

They sat in silence for a few beats.

"Steve, I'm losing my touch. First I let Pepper in and now you. I'm the Black Widow. I shouldn't be having emotions. I shouldn't trust other people. I was trained better than that," she said finally.

"Oh, is that what this is about? Here I was thinking you were just having a fight with Clint," Steve said.

"DON'T say that! That would be terrible!" she exclaimed.

"What? You mean you guys aren't fighting? Then why are you avoiding him? I mean, I passed him earlier on his way to the roof and he looked absolutely crushed," Steve informed her.

Natasha had enough grace to look ashamed before she mumbled, "I think I'm in love with him."

"What was that? I didn't hear you," Steve, who has perfect hearing by the way, said to her.

"I think I am in love with my partner. With Clint. And I think I have been for a very, very long time. I would go so far as to say all the way back to Warsaw, if I'm being honest," Natasha said with a little confidence as she sat up on the bed.

Well, Steve thought, it was about time she addressed that.

"Well, ok. But Natasha, that's not something that I didn't already know."

His statement was followed by more silence.

"Steve? Do you think, if I told him, if we were together, that he would become a target?" she asked quietly as she pulled a pillow up to her face, as if to hide from the answer.

"Maybe," the Captain said.

Steve watched as Natasha's face went from vulnerable to stoic in less time than it took for him to get the next, important part out.

"Then I can't do it. I cannot put him in danger like that," she said impassively.

Steve had to admit that he understood how the Black Widow operated from that exchange.

He reached over, grabbed her hand and finished, "Natasha, he's already in that danger. It's not hard to figure out that if someone wants to hurt him all they have to do is go after you. It was the first thing I learned about him after I learned that he could fly a plane and his weapon of choice was a bow."

He paused, looking her in the eyes so that she would see his sincerity.

"And the same thing goes for you. Loki tried to use him against you because he knew that was the only way to get at you. The rest of us all have our buttons that you don't want to push, too. For Tony it's Pepper and his inventions. For Bruce, it's his past. For Thor, its Jane and his family," Steve said comfortingly as he watched her face fall back into its previous vulnerable state.

"And you? What's your button?" Natasha questioned quietly.

"My team," Steve said seriously, "I'm Captain America. Nobody gets to mess with my family."

Natasha smiled. She knew there was a reason she felt so at ease around the super soldier. She could trust him to have her back.

"And Nat, you're kind of pushing my button right now because Clint is really, really hurt and confused with you right now. I know that you're just trying to understand it yourself, but maybe you could give him a clue, yeah?" Steve prodded gently.

"Yeah, ok. I think I can do that," she said.

"That's all I'm asking," he said as he smiled, stood up, and ran his thumb comfortingly across the back of her hand that he had been holding.

He dropped it and walked towards the door.

Before he reached it he stopped, "And Natasha, love doesn't make us vulnerable, it makes us strong. Tony saved the planet by flying a nuke into outer space with a large chance that he wouldn't make it back. He did that for love, for Pepper, because he wanted to make sure that she was safe. He might tell you that wasn't the reason, but that's him just trying to save face."

"Great example, Steve," Natasha said, somewhat dejectedly. Now was not the time to be telling her about near death experiences caused by love.

"Maybe not the best example, but you and Clint do things like that for each other everyday. Just accept it and let it be. Don't think about it too hard, alright?" Steve encouraged.

He waited for her nod then exited out of her room.

Mission accomplished, he thought with a smile.

~_:Page Break:~_

Steve's pep talk was just what she needed, Natasha decided. If he said it was alright, then it was alright. Who would argue with Captain America, personification of all things right, moral, and good?

Natasha certainly wasn't going to.

She pulled her hair to the right of her head and made her way out of her room.

Right. She only had twenty stories and a roof left.

It was going to be a long walk.

About five floors above hers she ran into Tony in the hallway.

"Hey, Natasha, ha-" was all he got out before Natasha's "Fuck off Stark," cut him off.

"Well, hot damn. I was only going to ask a question," he muttered. Then louder he said, "Jarvis, check the water. Everyone in this tower is acting insane. Well, insane-er-er than usual."

If he said anything after that, Natasha didn't catch it because she was headed up the stairs.

Finally she reached the roof.

She paused before she popped the door open to go face what had to be the scariest moment of her life.

She deeply inhaled, squeezed her eyes shut, exhaled, and popped the door open.

Clint wasn't hard to find. He was sitting (precariously to anyone but him) on the lip of the half wall inclosing the roof area of Stark Tower.

Natasha would bet good money that there were some epic parties that were going to go down on the top of this tower.

But ignoring that thought she said quietly, "Hey."

Clint, turning his head towards her, smiled a small worried smile and said, "Hey."

And just like that, everything fell into place for Natasha.

She climbed up next to Clint and sat down as close to her archer as she could manage.

Clint, recognizing that Natasha needed to feel as much contact as possible, wrapped his arm around her shoulders possessively.

He didn't want her to fall, he justified to himself.

They sat together, on the lip of the half wall on the top of Stark Tower, for a few minutes in silence.

When a few minutes had turned into an hour, Natasha finally said, "You can see the moonlight up here."

Clint nodded, not trusting his voice, when he noticed the way the moonlight was shining on Natasha's face and highlighting her vibrant red hair. Gods, she was beautiful.

And for once Clint didn't feel the need to justify that statement to himself.

The silence continued for about two more minutes until, "Where you been, Nat?"

Natasha's head dropped slightly and then she turned to hop down from the ledge onto the roof.

Clint turned around but didn't leave his perch as he watched her pace back and forth across about five feet of space a couple of times.

She stopped, looked at him for a couple of seconds, and then stepped up between his legs.

Clint swallowed nervously and put his hands on her waist.

"I was working some things out," she said finally.

The rest of the conversation was silent.

"What did you decide?" Clint's eyes asked.

Her eyes told him that he already knew. That he had always known. That how dare he know and not tell her. That her finding his perch had been no mistake and that she had finally figured it out.

They also told him she was scared near out of her mind.

Clint reached up to cup her face in his hands.

He ran his right thumb across her cheekbone as he continued to see all the way into her soul with his Hawkeye vision.

There were absolutely no guards, no walls, absolutely nothing keeping him from Natasha at that moment.

It terrified him, just a little, to be absolutely trusted by someone who doesn't trust anyone.

Clint's voice broke as he hoarsely said her name, "Natasha."

Then he brought his lips to hers.

_~:Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight:~_

It was a short kiss, just a meeting of the lips really. But time didn't matter to the assassins. As far as they were concerned at that moment in time, they had all the time in the world.

Clint pulled Natasha back up onto the ledge and settled his legs around her so that he was holding her as he leaned back against the wall and she leaned back into his chest.

They stayed like that, watching the cars pass by in the New York streets below.

They were in no rush to get anywhere else.

They stayed on the ledge and waited for the sun to come up.

_~:No, I don't want to say goodnight, I know it's time to leave, but you'll be in my dreams tonight:~_

They parted ways after breakfast, where everything was business as usual, with the minor exception that everyone seemed to be sporting knowing smiles.

No one offered congratulations or acknowledged the shift in the assassins' relationship.

Clint was pretty sure that Pepper was withholding sex to make it happen.

The only person who acknowledged the change at all was Steve, who said after they had finished their breakfasts, "You guys should go sleep, just in case we get called out soon. I don't want anyone getting hurt from sleep deprivation if we can avoid it."

So they went to their rooms.

Clint went to his and Natasha went to hers.

They did, however, hold hands until they had to let go.

They could both feel it this time. There was too much on the line to mess this one up. Neither could survive without the other, but not being together wasn't an option anymore. It was dangerous and thrilling and lurking at the edge of their minds.

But for tonight?

Just a kiss was enough.

**A/N: Ok guys! Review please! Any and All thoughts are welcome!**

**Also, if you have a Lady Antebellum song that you would like done that isn't on the Own the Night album, I would be happy to take any suggestions. They might not be incorporated into this story, but they might get a one shot. :D**

**P.S. I figured out how I'm going to end this and I'm super excited about it. But that's a ways away just yet. But I'm excited. Just thought I'd share.**


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